


Plague

by actualPrincess



Series: Time and Again [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Illnesses, M/M, POV Second Person, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sadstuck, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 10:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9381140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualPrincess/pseuds/actualPrincess
Summary: The time is 1672 AD and The Black Death is sweeping across the continent. Dave Strider makes house calls to the dying and has become numb to the feeling of loss. John Egbert sits in bed with no knowledge of how much time he has left. Fate forces them together at an inopportune time.





	

You meet when he is dying, and you find it ironic that you never felt more alive than when he takes your gloved hand and you tell him you'll do everything in your power for him to pull through. He's the son of a noble and has an unfortunate affliction, one which you have seen no cure for. It's a special kind of heartbreak to know that someone you love so passionately and so quickly will burn out like a flame. His father asks if there's anything you can do, and you offer to come (personally) to check on his son’s condition every day until he either gets better or perishes. You tell him to hold out hope for recovery, that some are able to pull through the sickness and live better for it. You know this is a lie, you have heard tales but never seen it occur. At night you do something you've never done, you pray for his health. Surely no merciful God would tear apart something so pure and good.

When you meet him the next day John is sitting up and smiles at you as you enter. You are in uniform, the bird like mask of your profession is funny, he says. He'd always thought crows were bad omens, but you feel like a good one. You smile behind the leather mask and then remember to tell him you did. He tells you he can see your eyes crinkle behind the glass eyes. You wish you could hold him, but the best protocol allows is for you to hold his hand. The glove feels like an unwelcome barrier, but he smiles like he doesn't mind. The two of you talk through your inspection of his health. The magnifying glass clicks into place as you need it, fixated on your mask as if you were inspecting jewels not the infirmed. John is pliant and willing as you raise his limbs to check for sores and signs of plague, opens his mouth to you to check his throat, you find yourself wishing for different circumstances. In the back of your mind you know there are different circumstances but you can't recall them. Nothing compares to the desperation of watching a lover die.

In the days following you keep your word and go to visit John every day. He’s your best patient. You still don’t take off the mask but he seems content simply to talk to you through it. He thinks your eyes are very expressive, you think his are the most beautiful you’ve ever seen. Even with the lighthearted airs you both put on around each other you know he is dying. He doesn’t have any sores, for that you’re thankful, but his coughing fits often leave his handkerchief bloody, and he shakes too much when he laughs. It hurts to continue visiting him, but you decide it would be more painful not to. You can’t even begin to imagine what life will be like when he passes. You tell him he’s beautiful one of the days you’re there and he looks sad. You can feel through to your very core the weight resting on such young shoulders. You start bringing flowers for him, to ward off sickness.

You insist, about a week in, that John start bathing more regularly. His family has the money, and it will get him out of bed. You’ve heard that it can help keep sickness at bay as well. His father is willing to try for the sake of his son. You think your uniform scares him. It doesn’t improve John’s health much, but he says he feels better for it. You wonder if he tells you that for your benefit.

You love John more with each passing day, and you spend more time with him simply talking than you do being his doctor. His health declines. You blame yourself. 

It becomes regular for you to compliment John’s looks, he smiles and thanks you most of the time. Sometimes he gives you that same sad look as the first time. Sometimes he attempts to correct you. You don’t know which is worse.

He never asks you to remove your mask, never shows distaste for your uniform, you almost wish he would. You would do it. For him you would do anything.

The way he says your name makes your heart soar. There’s always emotion behind it. Happiness in the way he says it as you enter, sadness when you tell him you have to leave, playful reprimand when you tell a dirty joke. You wonder what he thinks of the day he says your name while dreaming. It hurts. You wish it didn’t. You don’t pray that night.

John tells you that you don’t have to come every day. You beg to differ. He rolls his eyes but you can see he’s thankful. He doesn’t get many visitors.

It’s been two months since you started visiting him and you still can’t get over the way he looks at you. Like you’re some mystery he’s trying to solve. You think he’s trying to figure out what you look like. He stares at you more often these days, lets you catch him looking, or maybe he just doesn’t have the strength to look away. You only barely do. You feel a crack start to run through your heart when he tells you he’s tired. You smile and tell him to get some rest, you’ll be back tomorrow. He nods, and squeezes your hand before you leave. You think he wants to say something, but all he manages is a “Good night Dave” before dropping your hand. The unspoken words weigh heavy on your mind. You know this cannot last forever. 

John is dying, you’ve known this for some time but you know it now more than ever. You can feel his life leaving him in the very depths of your soul, as if you are dying as well. He smiles at you, death is more peaceful than you’ve ever imagined and yet more terrifying. He asks for a dying man’s request with a joking tone, and you tell him “anything” with a much more serious one. You don’t hesitate when he wants to see you, the mask is gone before he’s even closed his mouth. Blond hair frames your face lightly, it’s messy from the cowl and mask. John laughs and tells you he knew you were an angel, you smile weakly and start to peal off your gloves. If you’re going to be maskless you may as well be able to touch your love. John takes your hand, thumb rubbing over the skin gently, he wants to know if you’ve ever been in love. You tell him yes in a croaking broken voice. He tells you he always loved crows, and your heart swells against the cracks already running through it. You tell him you love him in the same breath he asks you to kiss him. His eyes twinkle with playful life you wish could have gotten more time. But God it seems, does not grant wishes, nor does he answer the prayers of dying men. You lean down to John, cupping his cheek, and press your lips against his. He tastes like iron and mint, and you regret that you hadn’t done this sooner. You wish this was a fairy tale, that your kiss would heal him like a miracle. You stopped wishing for a miracle weeks ago.

The two of you speak of plans to run away to the country afterwards, as if you could. You speak of the life you’ll build together, away from sickness, away from the city where everything is dead. You don’t know when tears start running down your face, but John brushes them away as you talk. He says he loves you, and you tell him you love him as well. You are not prepared for the way he closes his eyes and leaves you.

You’ve never wanted to die more than in this moment, and you kiss him a second time as you hear the door open, as the noble father walks in, as you hope for the noose.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see art of the au, or see more of John and Dave's iterations check out maintaining-sanity.tumblr.com/tagged/victorianstuck


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